


Dark John

by da_petty



Series: All The World's A Stage [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Acting, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Speculum, Blood and Violence, But not really. He's acting...perhaps a little too convincingly, Dark John Watson, Deliberate Badfic, Dry Sex, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Light Bondage, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape Fantasy, Ridiculous, Sexual Roleplay, Sexual Violence, Silly, Tongue-in-cheek, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-08 09:51:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17384252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_petty/pseuds/da_petty
Summary: John and Sherlock get a new script to act out. Something called 'Dark John'. John is familiar with the trope, Sherlock? Not so much. Guess John's gonna have to teach him, huh.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this is in response to all the complaints I get about my version of John never being mean enough to, or properly dominating Sherlock. I may or may not add the oft requested 'penis of ridiculous size', or PORS later. Depends on how mean I'm feeling. Right now I'm just irritated so we'll see.
> 
> There are some of you who won't find this mean enough - and it's definitely not going to be that mean - or wish Sherlock was the dark one, to this I say: You're reading the wrong author.
> 
> ***
> 
> And, as usual: Not Brit-picked or Beta'd. I'd never post anything if I had to let someone read my work first! Too mortified.
> 
> Enjoy!

John closed the front door of the flat behind him, large manilla envelope in his left hand. 

When they’d first started taking these jobs, these scripts, John used to try to tip the couriers but after about the third time he was given an insulted look followed by the courier turning and stomping down the stairs indignantly, he’d stopped offering. 

Today’s delivery person had held his hand out which John just stared out waiting to see if there were more items to be handed over. The man had snatched his hand back, made a disgusted noise, turned around and stomped back the way he’d come, slamming the door behind him. That was different. 

John spent the next half hour reviewing the script at the kitchen table. There wasn’t much to it but it fit a lot into a small amount of words. Trying to figure out whether he was nervous or excited, he walked over to the couch where Sherlock lay reclining looking for all the world like an emperor expecting to be fed peeled grapes - and waited.

His turquoise eyes were shut, hands crossed on his chest over his deep green silk dressing gown. Sherlock had so many of these and in such a large variety of colors; John often wondered if he bought them by the gross and had them delivered when John was working. They just seemed to appear on Sherlock as if it was his version of a magicians scarf trick.

John stood staring at Sherlock, waiting for acknowledgement. And waited. And waited…

“Sherlock?”

“Yes, John,” Sherlock said without opening his eyes or moving a muscle.

“I’ve been standing here staring at you for the past 10 minutes waiting for you to open your eyes and talk to me. There’s no way that you didn’t notice me, closed eyes or no.”

“Five.”

“Sorry. What?”

“You were waiting for five minutes. I’d planned on addressing you if you made it through minute nine but, well…”

John gave an exasperated sigh and said, “Must everything be a test of wills with you?”

“Yes. Was that a courier at the door?”

“Yes. Now, open your eyes and sit the hell up so that we can go over this script.” John turned around and began sitting down causing Sherlock to suddenly scramble upwards to avoid having his calves crushed by an impatient John’s backside.

“So, what’s this one about?” Sherlock asked.

“Well…it’s, uh, different,” John hedged.

“They’ve all been different, John.”

“Well, this is um…a special kind of different.”

Sherlock held out his hand, palm up, making a ‘gimme’ gesture with his fingers. John slapped the script in Sherlock’s palm and watched as his eyes read the title.

Sherlock stopped and looked at him.

“What is this supposed to mean “Dark John”?” He asked.

“Well, that’s…” he began, running a hand through his hair nervously, “that’s just another type of fetish…”

“Obviously,” Sherlock stated in a tone of voice that indicated that John was being a moron.

“This particular fetish requires that a main character act grossly out of character, in a violent and aggressive manner…” John paused.

“So?”

“So, it’s an abuse fantasy. Nothing wrong there. It’s just…it’s a bit violent and, well, mean,” John finished lamely.

“And?”

“This person wants me to abuse and rape you. To treat you like you were my property,” John finished awkwardly. 

“Sounds like BDSM. We’ve done that sort of thing before, John. What’s different this time?” Sherlock asked, leafing through the script.

John reached out and stilled Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock looked up at him.

“It’s different in that, my character wants to hurt you…”

“As I said, we’ve done that before.”

“It’s not supposed to be enjoyable for you. You’re not being submissive so much as subsumed by my character’s need to abuse you.” John removed his hand and sat back waiting for Sherlock to say something. Anything.

“Ah. I see,” Sherlock said, eyes lighting up.

“What? What do you see?” John asked nervously.

“The idea of this one turns you on and you’re ashamed of it,” Sherlock smiled triumphantly.

“I wouldn’t say ‘ashamed’. More…concerned than anything else.”

“You want to hurt me…”

“Often,” John said, giving a brief laugh.

“The idea of bending me to your will, controlling me…this isn’t a new fetish is it, John,” Sherlock stated matter of factly.

“Well, no. Not as such…”

“What’s the problem then? We’ve participated in each other’s fantasies before and most times they’ve been quite…invigorating.”

“Well, first of all, one of the stage directions is to force you face down on the floor and enter you all in one push,” John waited.

“Done that too, John. I don’t see a problem.”

“Without lube, Sherlock. Without anything. Spit, petroleum jelly, lotion, nothing. I can’t do that to you.”

“Why ever not? It’s just an act. I know that you don’t mean it.”

“We could use lube in spite of what it says in the script,” John said hopefully.

“That’s not an option,” said Sherlock who was leafing through the script again.

“It’s just pretend, Sherlock. Who would know? This one is audio only.”

“I’d know, John. And a lubed cock sounds markedly different from a dry one.”

“There’s more though. Maybe you should read the script fully before you agree to anything.”

“I’ve scanned it. Fucking, sucking, coming. Sex du jour,” Sherlock said, slapping the script down on the coffee table in front of him.

“Well, yes. That’s an accurate summary but did you get a look at any of the specifics?”

“I saw enough to know that while it might be a little uncomfortable, I’ll be able to handle it. Easily,” Sherlock said giving John a smug look.

“There’s hair pulling, Sherlock. Yours.”

That made Sherlock shiver. He had very delicate follicles. That would definitely be unpleasant.

“I can deal with it for one script. It’s not like there’s a lot to this one. It’s barely 25 pages long. It’s more of a ‘get right to the point’ kind of thing. Sometimes those are better.”

“There’s also…fisting…” John said with a nervous gulp. He’d always wanted to do that but had never mustered up enough courage to ask. He didn’t know how Sherlock would react.

“Fisting? So I fight you off and you dominate me. We’ve wrestled before. Honestly, John. You’re being childish.”

“Do…do you know what ‘fisting’ is, Sherlock?”

“Of course I do!” Sherlock huffed.

“Really? Describe it for me. I can’t wait to hear it,” John said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the couch.

“Well…” Sherlock began.

“Well?”

“It’s a form of fighting,” Sherlock ventured.

“Nope.”

“Fists are involved…” Sherlock said tentatively.

“One is, that’s for certain,” John laughed.

“Um…you hit me with your fist and I don’t fight back? Is that what’s bothering you?” Sherlock asked.

“It’s not really ‘hitting’ you with my fist so much as…entering you,” John looked at Sherlock expectantly hoping that he’d get it so that he didn’t have to go into detail.

“Entering me? With your fist?” Sherlock asked, perplexed.

“I’m sorry, John but I don’t think that I’ll be able to open my mouth wide enough for your fist to fit into it. We can try, of course but I’m not optimistic…”

“No. Not your mouth,” John interrupted. 

“No punching? Not my mouth? What’s left?” Sherlock asked, well and truly puzzled.

“God. What do you think is left?” John huffed exasperatedly.

Sherlock looked up at the ceiling while he sifted through his thoughts.

“You don’t mean…” Sherlock said abruptly.

“Don’t mean what, Sherlock?” John asked with a toothy grin.

“That you’d…that you’d…penetrate me with your fist,” and here he lowered his voice as if someone was listening in, “In my anus?” He finished lamely.

“Oh, well past your anus, Sherlock,” John gave a satisfied smile. It wasn’t often that one could catch Sherlock unawares. He’d been nervous about this before but now he was enjoying himself.

“How would that even work?” Sherlock asked in disbelief.

“Seriously? You don’t know how that works?” John laughed smugly.

“I get the general principle,” Sherlock made a dismissive gesture with his hand, “but that can’t be done without preparation, can it?” 

“Oh there's definitely preparation. It specifies lube for that one.”

“Why is lube ok for this and not penetrative sex?” Sherlock asked, genuinely curious.

“So that I won’t hurt my hand…obviously.” John smile widened.

“”Hurt your hand"? Hurt YOUR hand?! What about my anus?”

“You can fit things larger than a human fist inside a rectum although I wouldn’t recommend it. Actually, I wouldn’t recommend this either,” John finished, sounding a little down.

“This. THIS is your fetish. Not the rest. Why haven’t you ever mentioned it before?”

“Probably because of this very reaction,” John said. “Although I thought for sure that you’d heard of it before. You’re always doing “research”, aren’t you?”

“Why on earth would I research having a fist shoved up my arse?” Sherlock asked in exasperation.

“You’re a scientist. You usually try to learn everything about a subject you’re involved in. I’d call it research but we both know that you just dive in with both feet…” Sherlock suddenly looked even more nervous.

“No. I won’t be forcing my feet into your rectum. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

“Well, lucky me. Saved by your principles,” Sherlock said sarcastically.

“We don’t have to do this at all, you know. We’ve turned down scripts in the past.”

“But not because I don’t want you to be “mean” to me. How would that look? Sherlock Holmes afraid of a little rough sex?”

“Since when have you cared what people thought?”

“Never. Until now. It feels like a dare.”

“It’s not a dare,” John said reasonably.

“You’re supposed to rough me up, fist me and fuck me? Well, I guess I should be thankful for the order. No wonder no lube is specified for intercourse. Sounds like there will be plenty inside of me before we even get to your cock.”

“And pulling your hair.”

“That’s the scariest part!”

John laughed and stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“No time like the present,” and held his hand out to help Sherlock up.

“Now? You want to do this now?” Sherlock asked nervously.

“Why wait. We’re talking 60 minutes, tops,” John placated.

“I certainly hope that you’re going to take longer than that!”

“Stop being such a baby and get up,” John offered his hand again and Sherlock took it, allowing himself to be pulled up.

“Do you trust me, Sherlock?” John asked as Sherlock rose to his feet.

“Yes, of course.”

“You shouldn’t,” John said, twisting Sherlock’s wrist behind him then pulling his other arm to join it behind his back.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock huffed.

John reached in front of Sherlock to pull the loosely tied sash of his robe through the loops with a flourish.

“I’m immobilizing you. It seems like that should be fairly obvious. Genius,” John taunted winding the long sash around Sherlock’s wrists then wrapping the remainder around his waist finishing with a slipknot back at the beginning. 

“Thank god for expensive robes and underweight detectives. I wouldn’t have been able to do this to anyone else. And you didn’t even fight back,” John said, pulling Sherlock back by the hair and baring his lovely pale neck.

“You’re going to regret that,” John said then sank his teeth into Sherlock’s neck, breaking the skin and drawing blood. .


	2. John Gets Carried Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is getting into being 'Dark John' a little too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...as is typical of my fics, I can't stick to the number of chapters as originally promised so there will be at least one more now.
> 
> I was just going to keep writing until I finished but I'd left you guys hanging a bit so I'm giving what's done so far.
> 
> THERE ISN'T ANY SEX IN THIS FIC YET.
> 
> If you're frustrated by this, believe me, it's even worse from where I sit but John's in charge and he's going to have things his way.
> 
> Sorry about that.

Sherlock began to struggle.

“John. JOHN!! What the hell are you doing?! You bit me!”

John took his mouth off of Sherlock’s neck and slowly licked off the trickle of blood with a broad stroke of his tongue. He tightened his grip on Sherlock’s hair and whispered;

“I told you, Sherlock. We’re acting out the script. Right. Now.”

“This can’t possibly be in that script!” Sherlock exclaimed.

“No? I told you to read it first before agreeing to it, didn’t I?” John sucked on Sherlock’s earlobe and then bit down.

“Ow! I scanned it. I don’t remember anything about biting!”

“It allows for some improvisation…” John said, a smile clearly in his voice.

“Bullshit!” Sherlock began struggling again.

“You keep struggling like this, I’m gonna have to get the zip ties and you won’t like that, trust me. I’ll make sure of it,” John promised.

“So, I’m just supposed to cooperate while you abuse me?” Sherlock said indignantly.

“Should. Have. Read. The. Script.” John stated, flicking Sherlock’s ear hard enough to sting.

“Fuck! I told you, I scanned it! I don’t remember seeing anything like this at all!”

“Well, how about a refresher then.” John said, letting go of Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock sighed in relief.

“I don’t need a refresher! I know what I saw!” Sherlock said, indignant that he should be questioned.

“Let’s look again, shall we?” John grabbed the silk sash where it joined Sherlock’s wrists together then kicked his legs out from under him, his hold on the sash being the only thing keeping Sherlock’s face from slamming into the table.

Using his other hand to flip through a few pages of the script, John said;

“Ah! Here we go. Read it.” John demanded forcing Sherlock’s face against the page with a none too gentle push.

“Jesus Christ, John!”

“Oh. I’m sorry. That’s way too close for you to read comfortably, isn’t it,” John said and pulled Sherlock’s head up by his hair just far enough that he could read the open script.

“How about now?” John asked giving Sherlock’s hair a tug.

“OW! Goddamn it! Stop doing that!” Sherlock exclaimed.

“Wrong. I’m looking right at the page and it doesn’t say that at all,” John tightened his grip.

“Try again!” John demanded.

“‘John immobilizes Sherlock using the silk sash of his robe.”” Sherlock ground out.

“Very good! See how easy everything is when you pay attention?”

“I don’t think that I like this very…” Sherlock started.

“That’s the point of this exercise. You DON’T think. You DO. Which in this case is; whatever I tell you to do. Got it?” John snapped, tugging at Sherlock’s hair again.

“Ow! Yes. Ok. I have it!” Sherlock said and John released his hold on his hair.

“Now, look at the script and tell me what happens next,” John asked with deceptive calm.

“”John takes Sherlock over his knee, pulls down his silk pajama bottoms and spanks him…””

“And…”

“”Until Sherlock begs him to stop,”” Sherlock tilted his head, meeting John’s gaze.

“And do you have any dialogue here?”

“Nothing but moaning and pleading but that seems to be the majority of my dialogue in this script anyhow,” Sherlock said resignedly.

“Very good. So, what have we learned?”

“That we’re performing the script now and nothing I say will change that.” Sherlock said sounding utterly defeated.

“So smart. That’s right. Now, stand up. I believe that I have a spanking to administer,” John said.

“But…”

John grabbed Sherlock by the hair again, pulling so tightly that his neck was bowed back and he was unable to do more than respond with a grunt.

“That’s not in the script. Now, get up. I’m not asking, Sherlock,” John said, releasing Sherlock’s hair again and standing up.

After watching Sherlock struggle to get to his feet without the use of his hands, John once again grabbed the silk cord binding his wrists and yanked up forcing a quick moan of pain from Sherlock.

“Sadly, no whips or paddles were specified. Only the use of my hand. Don’t worry though. I’ll make sure that you don’t feel cheated in the pain department,” John said, sitting on the sofa and patting his lap.

“Come on. Don’t keep me waiting, sweetheart.” John tugged on the sash once more causing Sherlock to lose his balance and begin toppling backwards.

Using that momentum, John guided Sherlock’s rapidly falling onto the sofa then stood.

“Almost forgot to wash my hands. Be right back.”

Sherlock could hear the sound of running water as John washed his hands. This seemed…odd. Not that John never washed his hands but it wasn’t normally how they started any of these scripts. 

Although, admittedly, this was uncharted territory for Sherlock so he had no idea what would happen next. What most worried him was the “improvising.” He didn’t really think that John would do him any permanent damage but he knew for sure that he was about to be in a world of hurt.

John returned, flicking his wet fingers in Sherlock’s face. Sherlock blinked.

“All clean!” John said, sitting down in the middle of the sofa to Sherlock’s left.

“All you need to do is face me and lean forward. I’ll take care of the rest.” John said, patting his lap again.

Sherlock, shoulders aching, turned and began bending forward. At the point where he thought that he might fall, John grabbed his hair halting his decent. He arranged Sherlock over his lap so that his head was settled on a pillow while his bottom was pleasantly elevated over John’s thighs.

“There we go. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” John asked, expecting no reply.

Releasing Sherlock’s hair, John used the same damp hand to flip up Sherlock’s robe followed by quickly sliding his pajama bottoms down until they just cupped his cheeks.

“Now, you’re probably wondering why I didn’t dry my hands off. Well, I couldn’t use tools but there was nothing forbidding hand washing. Did you know that being slapped with a wet hand is exponentially more painful than being slapped with a dry one? Here, allow me to demonstrate.” 

John’s hand raised and came down on Sherlock’s beautiful backside with a resounding ‘TWACK!” Sherlock flinched but didn’t cry out.

“The script didn’t give a total but I think that 20 smacks should be sufficient. Wouldn’t want to wear this hand out.” He waved the same hand in Sherlock’s face. “I’m going to need it for later.” 

Sherlock could hear the smile in his voice. His arse already stung and he was beginning to feel the first hint of worry.

TWACK! TWACK! TWACK! TWACK! John was correct; a wet hand was definitely worse than a dry one. 

After the tenth smack John said, “I don’t hear any moaning or pleading. I guess I’m not making an impression. Let’s make it 50. Ten done, forty to go!” 

John began smacking Sherlock’s arse even harder than before. Around the twenty-fifth strike, Sherlock moaned. At thirty-five, he began pleading for John to stop.

John paused and said,

“What was that? I can’t hear you.” Then he ran his hand roughly over Sherlock’s red and swollen cheeks, viciously pinching one.

“Please. Please, John. Stop. It’s enough.”

TWACK!

“Wrong answer. Try again, unless you want to go for eighty.” John squeezed the other cheek harshly causing Sherlock to cry out.

“You. You decide how many.”

“That’s right, and…”

“You’ll keep going until you’re ready to stop. I can hasten that by properly begging you to stop,” Sherlock said, a hiccup in his voice as if he was trying to stifle a sob.

“Very good! Only fourteen more to go…so long as you do what you’re told.”

TWACK! TWACK! TWACK TWACK! TWACK!

Sherlock was openly sobbing now.

“Please, John. Please stop. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“You were going to do that anyhow. Try again.”

TWACK!

“I’ll behave. I won’t ask questions and I won’t complain. Please. Please stop,” Sherlock pleaded.

“You’re pretty on a good day but I had no idea how lovely you’d be with tears in your eyes begging me to stop hurting you. I have to finish your beating but I won’t add anymore strikes. All you need to do is what you’ve been doing. Begging and pleading, and it’ll be over. Understand?” John raised his hand again.

“Yes. Yes, John. I understand.”

“Ask me to beat you. I want to hear you beg me for it.”

TWACK!

“P-p-please, John!” Sherlock stuttered. “Beat me again. Harder! Please!”

“Nice touch!” John said and rained down the remaining six smacks in short order. 

Sherlock was sniffling, tears running down his face.

“See? That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” 

“N-n-no, John.” 

“You liked it too, didn’t you?”

“Y-y-yes, John.” 

“We could go for another sixty. How would you like that?” John asked with a sly smile.

“…”

TWACK!

“I can’t hear you!”

“If you want to add sixty more strokes, I will enjoy it,” Sherlock got out.

“Very good. You’re learning!” John petted Sherlock’s backside aimlessly for a few seconds.

“Your shoulders must be killing you by now. If I untie you, do you promise to behave yourself?” 

“Yes, John.”

“If you cause me anymore problems, you’ll pay for it. Is that understood?”

“Yes, John.”

“Good. This sash is going to be in my way for the next scene and I would have been very disappointed to have had to leave you tied up.” John grabbed the end of the slipknot and pulled it effortlessly through the loop releasing Sherlock’s wrists in an instant. 

Sherlock groaned in relief but didn’t do anything other than let his arms relax. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to get up now.

“Get up and stretch your legs. Try to get some feeling back into your arms. Then I want you in your bedroom, completely naked, face down on the bed.”

Sherlock stood, shook his arms out a few times and stretched. Pulling his pajama bottoms up just enough to avoid tripping over them, he obediently went to his bedroom, and removed his robe and pajama bottoms. Then he lay face down on the bed, head resting on his pillow and waited…


	3. The Main Event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John abuses poor Sherlock's anus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. Not Brit picked. Not reviewed at all - even by me. I wanted to post it right away for those who have been patiently waiting for the end. You know, the people who don't give a shit about edits and want the finished story NOW NOW NOW! Warts and all. So, here you go.
> 
> I will edit live later, as usual although the story won't change, just the spellos and any continuity issues. (Don't bother commenting that 'spello' isn't a word. I'm aware of that, I just like it better than 'typo' and I make up words, so there! NAH!)
> 
> Yes, yes. I'm a terrible writer putting out an unbeta'd fic that's potentially filled with mistakes. If that bothers you, don't read it. If it DOES bother you, complain to someone else who cares and don't harsh my buzz, man. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy it anyhow. 
> 
> ***  
> I have fun writing notes sometimes because I doubt that anyone reads them. Yes. It's true. My idea of fun is boring! ;)

Sherlock had fallen asleep waiting for John. His dark lashes fanned against alabaster cheeks and he breathed deeply through slightly parted lips. 

John stood fully naked in the doorway admiring Sherlock for a few minutes. He was such a beautiful man and John felt lucky that they’d found each other. He loved Sherlock with all his heart. He shook himself. No time for that now. He was working!

“Look who’s a good boy!” John said loudly, dropping the box that he was carrying, with a crash next to the bed. 

Sherlock startled awake with a sudden intake of breath. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and gazed back at John expectantly. 

“Sorry that I took so long but I was a little…excited after that last scene so I jerked off to relieve some of the tension. I wasn’t going to last ten more minutes at that rate. Now, the pressure’s off and I can take my time with you. Isn’t that nice?” John smiled at Sherlock who remained face down on the bed, awaiting further instructions.

John reached down and grabbed the script out of the box and smacked Sherlock on the back with it then shoved it at him.

“We’re on page 15, I believe. Read the prop list so that I can make sure that we have everything for the scene.”

Raising himself up on his elbows, Sherlock turned to page 15 and began to read.

“Hey!” John shouted and Sherlock stopped reading to look at him.

“I’m not psychic. Read it out loud and I’ll pull the appropriate items from the box. Now, Sherlock.”

“Examination gloves…”

“Check.” John said, placing the gloves on the nightstand.

“Petroleum jelly.”

John held up the container shaking it back and forth,“It contains cocoa butter so you’re going to smell especially delicious tonight. Continue.” John said throwing the jar at the bottom of the mattress.

“…anal…”

“Yes? It doesn’t just say “anal.””

“Um…anal…speculum…” And here, Sherlock trailed off, biting nervously at his thumb.

“Didn’t see that in here.” John began rummaging through the box, the sound of its contents rattling loudly in the expectant quiet of the room.

“Ah hah!” John held up an item sealed in plastic with the word “sterile” stamped on it over and over, and tossed it on the bed. He gave Sherlock an impatient look.

“Towel…” Sherlock finished lamely. 

“Right here,” John said, throwing it on the bed with the rest.

“Gotta love a fan who thoughtfully considers the effect of petroleum on 1,000 count Egyptian cotton. Turn on your right side so that I can place this towel under you.” John said, reaching for the towel.

Sherlock dutifully leaned onto his side while John placed the towel beneath his hips and upper thighs. Towel in position, John slapped Sherlock’s hip indicating that he should lay back down.

John sat on the bed next to Sherlock’s thighs and began organizing the few items in front of him. Reaching over for the gloves, he slowly drew each one on in a distinctly lascivious manner. 

With a snap of the right hand glove, John reached for the speculum, opened the package and emptied the contents onto the towel.

Picking up the jar of petroleum jelly, John popped the lid with a casual flick thumb. The delicious scent of cocoa butter immediately filled the room.

“Spread your thighs. There’s a good lad.” John said while Sherlock obediently opened his thighs.

“Wider than that, sweetheart.” John said, making the last word sound less like an endearment and more of an order.

“Just let me do it,” John said impatiently, setting the jelly aside, he spread Sherlock’s thighs just shy of discomfort. He didn’t want Sherlock’s thighs suddenly snapping shut due to fatigue, after all. 

“That’s better. Relax your thighs!” John said, slapping the back of Sherlock’s left thigh and leaving a vivid red hand print in its place.

“I’m not going to go out of my way to make this unpleasant. The script doesn’t specify that so, lucky you, yeah?” John said, a smile clear in his voice.

“Although I doubt that you’ll find the prep work for fisting in the beginning. I’m not even sure that you’ll like it during but, honestly, Dark John isn’t supposed to care which means that I don’t either. Sorry.” John picked the jar back up.

“Ready?” John asked, Sherlock met his eyes nervously and gave a brief nod of his head but John had already scooped out a generous amount of the jelly, spreading Sherlock’s cheeks with his other hand. 

As soon as John breeched him with his index finger, Sherlock closed his eyes, all feeling centered around John’s finger slowly easing its way inside of him. 

With a crook of his finger, John made a casual pass over Sherlock’s prostate. Never lingering long enough to do more than frustrate Sherlock and cause his cock to harden.

John withdrew his finger and slowly eased it in again causing Sherlock to shudder. On the fourth withdrawal, John added another finger and roughly thrust both inside. Sherlock’s breath hitched and John smiled.

Now John began paying more attention to Sherlock’s prostate, causing him to reflexively grind his hips against the towel. 

After the addition of a third and final finger, John continued digitally fucking Sherlock for what seemed to be an unnecessarily long amount of time.

Removing his fingers, John sat back and gave his once again hard cock, a few strokes with his lubed hand, and groaned.

“Someone must really like you, Sherlock. Petroleum jelly is notoriously difficulty to remove from skin so it’s unlikely that you’ll care about being fucked without any further lubricant. There will be plenty left by the time I’ve done with the speculum.” 

Picking up said object, John thrust the rounded tip into the jelly rocking it back and forth, coating the device generously.

“Amazing the stuff that’s disposable these days, eh? A plastic speculum,” John said, turning the tool back and forth, admiring its now lavishly greased construction. 

“On you’re knees. Now, Sherlock!” Sherlock scrambled quickly to his knees.

“Head DOWN!” John yelled and Sherlock instantly obeyed.

Spreading Sherlock’s cheeks again, John slowly eased the closed speculum inside of his rectum until it was firmly seated against his anus and could go no further.

“See? That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” John said rhetorically with a firm pat to Sherlock’s buttocks.

“Course, it might become a bit more uncomfortable once I begin dilating your anus until you’re open enough to easily receive my fist. Can’t be helped though. Needs must, and all that.” 

John began squeezing the handle of the speculum, slowly ratcheting it open. This wasn’t done to limit any discomfort for Sherlock. John was so turned on just watching Sherlock be mechanically opened for his use that he wanted to savor it. Savor using Sherlock without a care for his comfort. 

His cock throbbed painfully and his balls ached. John checked the time and was shocked to find that he’d preparing Sherlock for the better part of an hour. John hadn’t been paying attention to anything other than himself and it was at this point that John finally realized that Sherlock hadn’t uttered a sound the entire time. There was some moaning and groaning to do. Time to move this along.

John had paused all activity while he’d been thinking and realized that Sherlock was tense. That was good. He could use that.

He quickly ratcheted the speculum until it was opened to it’s full diameter and NOW Sherlock was groaning. 

“Tell me how much you like that,” John demanded.

“I…I like it, John.” Sherlock said, pain clear in his voice.

“Beg me to shove my fist into you. Make it more believable than that last bullshit you gave me. Do it!” John flicked the speculum’s handle and Sherlock moaned.

“Please, John. Fuck me with your fist. I want it. I need it. OOH! FUCK!!” Sherlock suddenly exclaimed as John unceremoniously thrust his fist into Sherlock’s rectum.

“Does it hurt?” John asked.

“It’s uncomfortable,” Sherlock replied, clearly NOT enjoying himself.

“Wrong answer!” John partially removed his fist and then shoved it back in again.

“I…it’s…I love it?” Sherlock asked nervously.

“Are you asking me? If I wanted to talk to myself, I wouldn’t ask you anything. Better. Do better!” John demanded, fucking Sherlock with his fist.

“It’s amazing. You’re amazing! It feels so good! I wish it could go on forever!” Sherlock said desperately.

“There you go. I don’t know why you insist on making everything so difficult.” 

Sherlock began rocking back and forth, fucking himself on John’s fist as he groaned in seeming ecstasy. John couldn’t take it anymore. He was about to come untouched. He needed to fuck Sherlock RIGHT NOW!

Placing a hand on one of Sherlock’s cheeks to stop him from moving, John removed his hand followed quickly by returning the speculum to its original size and removing it. Throwing it into the bin, he tore off the surgical gloves, pulling them inside out, pitching them into the bin as well.

John stood up, glaring at Sherlock.

“Floor! Hands and knees. NOW Sherlock!”

Without waiting for an answer, John grabbed a handful of Sherlock’s hair and dragged him to the bedroom floor; script fluttering down after him.

“Hands and knees! Do it!” John said, applying a stinging slap to Sherlock’s buttocks simultaneously.

“Head down, ass in the air! Faster, dammit!” John said as Sherlock fell to his knees, folded his arms in front of him and lay his head on them.

John knelt behind Sherlock. He was about to shoot his load and he wanted to be deeply inside of him before that happened.

Grabbing his cock, he lined it up with Sherlock’s loosened arsehole and, without finesse, slammed into him with such force that Sherlock was rocked forward. So slippery. John groaned.

“You’re barely tight enough to make me come! Stop moving!” John made it to four thrusts before he was coming deeply inside of Sherlock. 

Muscles suddenly relaxing, John landed heavily on Sherlock’s back causing his cock to slip, his body quickly falling on the floor next to Sherlock.

Sherlock stretched out his lanky form with a groan, looked over at John and asked,

“Is that the end?”

“I’ve no idea,” John said with a laugh, throwing a forearm over his eyes.

“I thought that you read the script,” Sherlock said.

“Well, to be honest, by the time I got to the part where I fucked you on the floor, I was too distracted by my hard on to finish reading it. Where is it?” John asked, making a minimal effort to lift his head up and look around.

Sherlock sat up and quickly spotted it beneath the bed. He picked it up and handed it to John.

John had resumed covering his eyes and said,

“Just read it to me and tell me what’s left to do. I hope that no movement is required. I don’t think that my legs could support me at this point.

“Playtime’s over. Read it yourself,” Sherlock said, slapping the script against John’s stomach.

Raising his arm a bit, John peaked at Sherlock worriedly and asked,

“I’m sorry. I should have asked if you were ok. I, um, got lost in the role and might have gotten a bit carried away.”

Sherlock glared at John.

“Ok. You’re right. I went too far. Can you forgive me?”

Staring pointedly at the script, Sherlock said brusquely, “I don’t know. It depends on how this bloody script ends.” 

Giving Sherlock a remorseful look, John pulled the script up and flipping to the last page, began to read aloud;

“‘John comes inside of Sherlock and after a brief (and here, ‘brief’ was underlined) period of recuperation, sucks Sherlock’s cock to completion.’” John looked up.

“Given the tone of the previous 24 pages, That seems sort of…generous, doesn’t it?” John had planned to get Sherlock off anyhow but hadn’t expected an ending where Sherlock any kind of relief after the proceedings. He looked quizzically at Sherlock.

“That’s it? There’s nothing else?” Sherlock asked in exasperation.

“What else could there possibly be?”

“Look again, John.” Sherlock said firmly.

John skimmed to the bottom of the page and read, “‘The End.’” That’s it. Oh, wait. There’s a post script at the bottom in small print.” John squinted at it trying to make it out.

“What does it say?” Sherlock asked with a smirk.

“It says, “I knew that you always wanted to try this but had been too shy to ask so I decided to put a little play together for you. Happy Birthday, John. You mean the world to me and I love you with all of my heart. — Sherlock”

John look up at Sherlock, tears in his eyes.

“You did this just for me?”

“It’s your 40th birthday. I wanted it to be special and you know I’m not particularly good in the gift giving department. Besides, Molly assured me that you’d love it!” Sherlock said, a twinkle in his eye.

“MOLLY?! You talked to Molly about this? Sherlock!” John exclaimed in mortification.

“Just kidding. I was fairly certain that you’d be pleased. And, were you? Pleased?” Sherlock asked with a sultry smile.

“That was the most fantastic sexual experience of my life! I’ll never forget it!”

“Me either,” Sherlock said, with a twinge and rubbed his arse.

“I am SO sorry! You haven’t said. Are you ok? Was it any good at all? I feel so bad,” John exclaimed sincerely.

“I’m fine, John. I don’t know that I’d ever want to have a fist up my arse again but it was very sexy watching you lose yourself to the moment. Something you wouldn’t have been able to do if you hadn’t been told to do it. You worry too much, John,” Sherlock finished primly. 

John laughed, “I do indeed. Still, I am sorry about it. Not enough to take it all back but, not without some residual guilt hanging on. I’ll make it up to you, what can I do? Name it?” 

Taking the script from John, Sherlock folded it to page 25 and thrust it back at John and pointed at the last paragraph.

“I believe that we still have to finish the script,” Sherlock said with a grin.

“Ah, yes. I need to finish you to completion. Wasn’t it?”

“Yes, John. And neither one of us like to leave a job unfinished,” Sherlock said, pointing his index fingers to his own now hard cock.

“Now, suck it!”

“I’m on it!” John said eagerly, sore muscles forgotten caused by his appreciation of the magnitude of Sherlock’s gift.

Pushing Sherlock back down, John licked his way across Sherlock’s sharp hips and smooth, alabaster stomach. Upon reaching his goal, John placed his lips over Sherlock’s cock head and sucked him completely into his mouth in one go.

Sherlock ran his hands through John’s hair and moaned in pleasure. If John’s enthusiasm was anything to go by, this was shaping up to be the best blow job he’d ever had, he thought.

John had a firm hold of Sherlock’s hips and was lavishing attention on his cock when Sherlock suddenly froze and stopped John’s progress.

John let Sherlock’s cock slide out of his mouth and asked, “Something wrong?” 

“I have a special request.”

“Anything,” John said earnestly.

“You know that thing that you do that I usually quite enjoy?” Sherlock said looking at John expectantly.

“When I lick your nipples, like this?” John said, bending forward and tickled Sherlock’s nipple with the tip of his tongue causing Sherlock to groan.

“No. It’s not that, it’s…” Sherlock began.

“Is it this?” John asked and began biting Sherlock’s hips hard enough to leave marks.

“No! It’s not that, it’s…”

“Ah. Is it this then?” John sucked the skin of Sherlock’s thigh hard enough to leave a bruise and then looked up at Sherlock expectantly. He was running out of ideas.

“OH! I know!” John smooth the palm of one hand across Sherlock’s hip and upon reaching his lovely backside, gave it a firm squeeze.

Sherlock’s hand shot out and gripped John’s wrist firmly, almost too firm, and stopped him.

“Is this it?” John asked with a smile.

“Yes, John. I wanted to tell you…”

“Yes?”

“I wanted to tell you that if you touch my anus again anytime in the near future, you’ll be left with a hand that will be functionally useless,” Sherlock finished.

“So, wait. Did you just give me the long version of ‘if you touch my arsehole, you’ll be drawing back a stump?’” 

“Obviously.”

John removed his hand from Sherlock’s arse as if he’d been burned.

“Not a problem,” John assured him.

“Good. You may continue,” Sherlock said imperiously.

Giving a good natured laugh, John took Sherlock’s cock into his mouth once again.

“John?”

John let Sherlock’s cock fall out of his lips gracelessly and asked with barely veiled impatience, “Yes?”

“Do you have any of those disposable anal speculums remaining?” Sherlock asked, just a shade to casually.

“I grabbed a few from work so, yes. Why?” John asked suspiciously.

“Where do you keep them?” Sherlock asked nonchalantly.

“In the box with the rest of the stuff. Why, Sherlock?” John asked, eyes narrowed.

“And where do you store the petroleum jelly,” Sherlock asked with feigned innocence.

“Same box. Why?”

“What time do you think you’ll go to bed tonight?” Sherlock asked, not meeting John’s eyes.

“The usual. Around 10pm. WHY?” John demanded.

“Oh. No reason,” Sherlock replied and then remained stubbornly silent.

John wasn’t worried. He was a lite sleeper and would wake at the creak of a board much less someone trying to get a speculum into him. 

It wasn’t that he was adverse to it, exactly, but he’d definitely want a little warning first. John put that topic completely out of his mind and began licking and sucking Sherlock’s cock again.

And, Sherlock? He was a master of multi-tasking. He could plot while getting his cock sucked.

Slowly riffling John’s hair, Sherlock made a seemingly casual remark.

“I’ll make us tea later,” He said softly but John didn’t hear him. 

‘Good thing I know where Mrs Hudson keeps her herbal soothers,’ and gave a wicked smile before finally allowing himself to enjoy John’s work.


End file.
